


One Night in a Hotel

by sandy_s



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22740898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandy_s/pseuds/sandy_s
Summary: Summary: Spike stumbles upon Buffy in L.A. after “Destiny” in AtS season five. They’re both lost (for more than one reason) and need a night to sort things out.Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns all.
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter One, Resting At Last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellowb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowb/gifts).



> For the wonderful yellowb! Happy birthday!

Spike smelled Buffy’s distinctive scent – a scent he would recognize anywhere. He shook his head as he breezed by a group of people, none of whom had her blonde hair, out for a night on the town. There was no way it was her. 

Spike couldn’t stop thinking about Buffy (as if he ever had) even when he’d been shagging Harmony after becoming solid again. And wandering off after the skirmish with Angel and drinking himself into oblivion hadn’t helped either. He’d been propositioned early on in the night by a couple of young birds, but he’d blown them both off the same way he always had even in Sunnydale when he’d been a free vamp. God, there was still only Buffy in his undead heart. 

He had nowhere to go and no money aside from the credit card he’d swiped from an unsuspecting lawyer at Wolfram and Hart. Spike had been using it liberally on booze, so he was sure it’d be discovered soon and cut off. But that was yesterday. 

Tonight, now that his hangover had subsided, he was moping, and while he hated that he was, he was letting himself. He didn’t know where he was, he didn’t know what his purpose was now that he wasn’t helping the infernal Scoobies, and if he was honest with himself, he was reeling a bit from Angel’s digs at him during their fight. 

Still, at the very least, he was on the move despite the moping, and moving always helped him suss things out. Sussing things out required being somewhat rested though, and he was just going in circles in his brain at this point. 

Spike rounded a corner in another unknown neighborhood and almost ran smack into Buffy. Coming up short, he stumbled a little to the side, sure that now he was hallucinating on top of being homeless.

“Spike.” Buffy’s hair glowed golden under the streetlight, and she wore a deep green leather jacket that he didn’t recognize. He bet in the right light, her eyes were really bright when she wore it. Her hair was in two long braids, and her skin was paler than he remembered as if she hadn’t been in the sun in a while. Dark circles were carved out under her eyes. “Hi.” 

Spike could usually read her like a book, but he got nothing from the single syllable. “Buffy?” He tried to sound casual but failed miserably. There was a lot of hope in his tone. Damn it. He didn’t reach out; he still felt like he had no right to cross any sort of line with her. 

Luckily, she took charge and touched his hand, making his body come alive in the way it always did around her even in that time when he’d been insane in the high school basement. “Just checking to see if you’re corporeal.” Good thing she’d come around at the right time. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d recently be go-through-able like the First.

“Old habits and all,” he said as if he didn’t care one whit that she hadn’t even hugged him or wasn’t touching him out of relief that he was alive. He deliberately took a step back from her though his every instinct told him to scoop her up into his arms. “What’re you doing here? In the city of angels, I mean.”

“Checking on the Slayers here. There’s a rumor about a couple of new ones we need to find.”

“You came all the way here for that?” Spike had no idea where Buffy had been. For all he knew, she’d been here all along. He doubted that though because Angel would’ve been going on about it. . . or maybe not if he didn’t want Spike to know.

“Of course,” she said a little defensively. “There’s a lot to rectify.”

Spike caught the way she averted her eyes just a little. She was having a feeling, about what he wasn’t sure. “Rectify? Interesting word choice there, pet.”

“Well, the spell we cast has had its pros and cons.” Her shoulders hunched a bit as if she was too tired to say more. Spike got that; he was there himself. 

“Most magic has pros and cons. Imagine it’s taken a toll on you.” Something dawned on Spike. “Wait. Why aren’t you. . . I dunno, punching me in the nose or something?” He wasn’t sure how he expected a reunion with Buffy to go, but this wasn’t one of the many scenarios he’d cooked up in his imagination when he’d been all ghostly.

Buffy hesitated then and glanced down, fumbling in her jeans pocket. “I’ve been looking for you.” She held up her cell phone with a black screen as if that explained anything. “My cell battery died before I could find you though, and I-I’ve been sorta wandering around in this general area, hoping. . .” 

He heard the emotion in her voice at the end, and he softened. “Hoping what, love?” 

Her voice was small, so he wasn’t sure what was happening in her noggin, but he smelled the start of tears. “Hoping I’d run into you.” 

“Oh.” Spike thought that was the direction she was headed, but for some reason, it still surprised him. 

“I only just found out that you were. . .” 

Spike had no idea which part she’d just found out. “Back?”

She nodded. “And that you were a sort of ghost, and now you’re not. And I just so happened to be here. I mean, not that I wouldn’t have dropped everything. . .” She kept trailing off, and he could tell this was too hard. Hell, it was too hard for him. 

Spike decided to put off the discussion for a little bit because he couldn’t think straight enough to ask the right questions. Not that there were right ones. “Where are you staying? Not that I’m inviting myself over. It’s just I. . . you – ”

“I’m too tired to think right now. You?” She blinked up at him.

“Yeah.” He’d forgotten that she got him at the end, too, that she’d really been there with him, caring about his feelings the way he cared about hers. Maybe Angel made him forget, but maybe Spike also forgot with all the circling he’d done in his own head while haunting the law firm. 

A small smile graced her lips. “Don’t make fun of me, but I don’t know where I am. And I was staying with one of the local Slayers. Don’t ask me what the address is because I don’t know. They picked me up from the airport and took me there. I was exhausted from a huge fight with a bunch of demons in France. France. Can you imagine that? I don’t have a working phone, and I forgot to grab my wallet out of my suitcase.” She waggled the worthless brick of a flip phone at him. “Some Slayer I turned out to be.” It was the most she’d said to him so far, and he felt a little relief that the Slayer he knew was still in there.

“I don’t exactly have a place to stay either.” He frowned. “How’d you find me again?”

She looked uncomfortable again – something he didn’t want. “Tracker.” 

“Bloody hell.” Spike started patting his pockets. “Where the hell is the little bugger? There’s no way it’s implanted, so it has to be on me.”

Buffy offered a hand. “Let me help.”

Spike didn’t even think and passed over his duster after turning the pockets inside out. He couldn’t hear a blasted thing. Usually, the things buzzed loud enough for him to detect them, but he’d been very distracted since he re-solidified. Buffy started going over the coat with a fine-toothed comb while Spike emptied out his Docs. 

Ignoring the passersby who stared at him and Buffy, he focused his hearing. After a few seconds, he detected the faintest of hums, but he couldn’t quite place where it was coming from. After searching his front, he decided it was coming from the back of him, and he gave Buffy a helpless look. 

She instantly got it and passed back his duster. “Turn around.” 

He obeyed without really thinking about what this meant. When she almost immediately touched him, he inhaled without thinking and chided himself for reacting. Her fingers were expert and diligent, and by the time they made their way to the neck of his black T-shirt and brushed over his bare skin, he’d recovered enough to not show how much she still impacted him. 

There was a pinch and Buffy plucked something from his shirt. “Got it.” 

Spike reluctantly turned around and saw an infinitesimal speck between her thumb and forefinger. “Bloody hell, that’s tiny.”

She crushed it in one motion. The tiny sound ceased. “How did they even get it on you?” 

Spike’s mind raced back over the last couple of days and landed on the only explanation and bloody hell, he didn’t want to admit it, especially not to Buffy of all people. “Harmony.”

“Harmony?”

“She works for Angel. She’s his secretary.” Spike couldn’t make eye contact with Buffy but better to rip off the Band-Aid because she’d find out anyway, and he’d rather it come from him. “She and I – ”

“Oh.” Buffy’s eyes widened. “Ohhh.”

“It meant nothing. I swear. I just. . .” God, he was such a berk. He just wanted to melt into the ground. He didn’t want to hurt Buffy, but it seemed he always managed to do just that. Something walled off in her eyes. He could see it, and he hated himself for it. “There’s no excuse.” Did he even have to apologize? Did he owe her anything? She’d kissed Angel and then cuddled up with Spike in the same night. 

But she surprised him as she studied his face. The wall dissipated but only a bit because her jaw was set. He didn’t know what that meant, but her next words made him feel a little better. “I get it.” 

“Oh.” He was surprised by how easily she took his admission. She even yawned then, which told him how unfazed she was, and Spike remembered how tired he was, too. He made an impulsive decision. Producing the Wolfram and Hart credit card, he glanced around. Beyond the row of nightclubs and bars, he saw a sign for a hotel. “Let’s get you a phone charger and a bit of rest, pet.”

She glanced in the direction of the hotel. “Okay.” 

As they headed toward the hotel, a crowd of several young people approached, chatting and laughing and staggering a bit. Spike smelled the alcohol on them, and as he and Buffy started through the group, she grabbed his arm to stay close, tucking her hand against his elbow. He shivered at the touch and was grateful for the crowd to cover his reaction again. 

As soon as they were free, she let go, and he tried not to show how disappointed he was at the loss. “Almost there, pet.” They passed a small convenience store, and he spied a rack of off-brand cell phone accessories in the window. He grabbed the door and pulled it open. “Snacks and a charger?” 

Buffy nodded and headed in, going straight to the rack he’d seen. Spike gathered up a bottle of water, a small bag of ice in case the hotel didn’t have an ice machine, and a bag of the chips he remembered she liked. Buffy popped back up as he was picking up the snack. She was empty-handed. “No luck?”

“No. It was all car phone chargers and cases.” She nodded at the chips. “You remembered.” 

He shrugged and teased. “Salt and vinegar suits you.”

“Haha.” She turned her head toward a rack of T-shirts. “Mind if I pick up a shirt to sleep in? I’ve been walking around in this for. . .” She frowned as if trying to think. “A lot of hours.” 

What did Spike care if he racked up a huge bill for the bloody lawyer? “Not at all.”

As she picked out a light blue shirt that was emblazoned with _Los Angeles_ and more glitter than was ever necessary on an article of clothing, he wondered if she would take a shower at the hotel. He wondered if he should take a shower at the hotel. God knew he probably smelled like a distillery, and he hadn’t exactly showered after his skirmish with Angel in the abandoned opera house. 

Before he could even grab one off the stand, she held up a bigger, darker T-shirt with very similar levels of rainbow glitter. “For you.” She giggled. 

He rolled his eyes. “Thanks, pet.” Even though he’d never be caught dead outside of his situation in such a shirt, he plucked both garments from her hands and took the whole lot to the checkout counter where Buffy added a bag of jelly beans, gummy bears, Twizzlers, and mini-powdered donuts – a real sugar fest. Thankfully the credit card still went through. 

Spike carried the bag, and somehow, the trip to the hotel felt much shorter after the little pit stop. He stopped short when he realized how posh the hotel was. He didn’t want to stay at a dump, but he wasn’t sure he really fit in in an establishment this nice – not anymore. 

“What’s wrong?” Buffy asked, having still moved forward in her fatigue. 

“This doesn’t exactly look. . . I haven’t stayed in a place this grand in a long time.” And Buffy had never known him to have anything more than the crypt in Sunnydale. The mansion didn’t exactly count given that Angelus had shown up and taken over, and all the decent places they’d been before that weren’t worth telling Buffy about because most of the time it involved killing people. Nowadays, if he thought about that, he felt more than a bucket full of guilt himself.

“If it makes you feel any better, neither have I. I miss the house in Sunnydale. It had its issues, but I think I took for granted hot running water and a comfy bed.” 

“I took for granted being able to touch things.” Spike suddenly found himself wanting to run his fingers over everything just because now he could. 

Buffy smiled up at him. “Touch away.” Her eyes widened a bit. “I mean, oh, that sofa over there.” She pointed at the plush-looking, cream-colored sofa in the lobby they were entering. 

“It’s okay, love. I don’t need to go out of my way.” Now that Buffy was here with him, Spike didn’t feel the same desperate urge to touch and consume and win. His world felt less lopsided again. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Are you okay if we see if there’s a room here?” she asked. 

Spike assessed her tired eyes in the brighter light of the hotel and confirmed that his Slayer desperately needed some kip. “Of course.”

She bit her lip. “It’s not too expensive?” 

“Not for. . .” Spike produced the credit card and squinted at it. “Harvey Johnson, attorney at law.” 

She giggled and lifted a hand at him. “You should know that I’m only okay with this because I’m giddy from lack of sleep and because you swiped the card from the evil law firm.”

Spike gazed down his nose at her. “And trust me, Harvey is a very bad boy. I have half a mind to turn him in to Angel for what he’s been doing.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I don’t even want to know what you know or how you know it.” 

“I could go through walls; I saw things. Things I probably shouldn’t have and things I wish I hadn’t.” 

As they approached the check-in desk, Buffy said, “It must have been lonely.”

Spike wasn’t sure how to respond and was saved from doing so by the older woman greeting them and asking how she could help. 

Twenty minutes later, Harvey Johnson and his lady friend were checked in to one of the last rooms available in the hotel that was full due to some concert or another in town. Spike had requested two nights; he wasn’t exactly sure why, but it felt right. 

In the rising elevator, Spike leaned against the railing along one mirrored wall and stared at the floor. He couldn’t look at the mirror due to his lack of reflection (it was still disconcerting sometimes) and was a little too nervous to peek at Buffy, so he stared at their feet. Buffy was wearing boots per usual, but instead of the latest style, they were the same boots he remembered her wearing on patrol in Sunnydale, only they were scuffed and dirty now. He wondered if the external state of her shoes matched the internal state of her heart. 

Buffy shifted her feet. “I know, I know. They’re a wreck, but I don’t exactly have money or time for shopping, and these are my favorite. Broken in, you know?” She peeked at him and then nodded at his Docs. “I mean, you get it, right?” 

The way she said it made Spike think that maybe she wasn’t just referring to shoes. “I do.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Spike checked the room number: 908 and started to follow the hallway signs. Their room was just around the corner – not far at all, and when he opened the door with the key, the first things his eyes lit on made him stop short.

Buffy ran smack into him and protested, “Hey.” Peering around him, she breathed, “Ohhh.” 

“Could have sworn the lady said two full-sized beds, pet.” There was only a king-sized bed filling the space.

“No worries.” Buffy moved to stand next to him.

“Let me go down and get it changed.” He turned toward the door.

She put a hand out but didn’t touch him. She was so close but so far away. “Didn’t she say we got the last room?”

“One of the last rooms. I’ll be right – ” 

This time, she touched him. “No!” He gave her a startled look, and she said in a small voice, “Don’t leave.” When he waited, she added, “I’ve only just found you. And I-I. . . I’m so tired.” 

Spike felt almost as relieved as when he asked her not to go in her basement after she kissed Angel. “Okay.” Spike let the door slip closed and turned the lock. “You go shower, love, and I’ll. . .” his eyes skimmed over the room, “check out the minibar and situate the ice.”

Buffy smiled. “Okay.” She snagged her glittery shirt and headed to the bathroom. 

Several minutes later, she emerged smelling heavenly – the shirt as large as a nightgown on her. Spike hesitated to go in the bathroom after her because he was afraid of how his body would react to being surrounded by the scent of her. There was a reason he’d avoided using the bathroom at the Summers house after Buffy had been in it, and it wasn’t because of his massive mistake. 

Buffy caught his expression and misinterpreted it. “It’s okay. You and me and bathrooms. It doesn’t bother me anymore.” 

Spike hugged his ribcage to avoid any possible contact with her. “Pet, you don’t ever have to reassure me about that. I’m the one who should be reassuring you.”

Buffy started to protest and then acquiesced to his statement and nodded at him. “I’ll take it. The reassurance.” 

Spike considered what to say as if he hadn’t thought about it a thousand times already. They just never addressed it in Sunnydale – not directly. “I’m sorry for what happened. I can’t apologize enough. I should have stopped when you said no, and I can promise you this: it will never happen again.” 

Tears filled her eyes, and Spike could tell she had more to say than just, “O-okay.”

He left it at that, accepting the shirt she handed him and entering the steamy bathroom. Their conversation was enough to prevent his body from reacting to being wrapped up in her scent, and he showered quickly, using the same soap she’d used and rinsing his mouth with the minty mini-bottle of mouthwash, something he always did in Sunnydale after she came back if he knew she was going to crash into his crypt on patrol. 

The lights were all off except for a single lamp, spreading a soft yellow blanket over Buffy’s form curled up under the covers. For a split second, he thought she was asleep, but then, he heard her heartbeat. Unable to say a word lest he spoiled the comfortable silence by somehow putting his foot in his mouth, he rounded the end of the bed and sat with his back to her, peering over his shoulder at her face at last.

Her eyes were closed, but she blinked up at him and gave him a small smile before loosening one of her arms and patting the bed. “It’s okay. Rest your head. I mean, if you want to.” 

“I’m not rightly sure I want you to see me in this get-up,” he said softly. 

She lifted her head then and stared at his chest as he turned toward, emitting a laugh before covering her mouth. “It looks great on you,” she said with a straight face.

Spike lifted an eyebrow at her.

As she settled back down on the pillow and tucked her hand under her cheek, she said, “It’s okay to get under the covers, too.”

The sheets were soft against his bare skin as he followed her lead. It felt so intimate, being under the covers close to her. That had never happened when they slept together; he didn’t count the cot in the basement. This was a bonafide bed and not one in a stranger’s house. 

Buffy gazed into his eyes, and he found the courage to genuinely look at her – to see what was there. To his surprise, he found the same Buffy as before they parted. She still looked completely exhausted and like she needed a mental and physical break, but the emotion in her eyes for him was the same – the nuggets of emotion under the surface of her duty were real. And as much as he was still terrified to admit it, those emotions were for him. He had no idea why when he’d mucked so many things up in their relationship, but for the moment, he let it be. 

Buffy spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper, and it was almost like she was reading his mind. “I did a lot of things wrong, too, you know. In our relationship.”

“We didn’t have a relationship,” Spike said automatically. As much as he denied Angel’s button-pushing, it only worked because deep down, Spike believed it. 

“God, Spike,” she breathed, sounding hurt. “We did. Am I crazy? Did I imagine it?” 

“Maybe. I dunno.” He was still too scared. 

Her bare foot found his shin in a little kick, crossing the sea of bed between them. “Let’s go with we did, so I can own my stuff.”

He grunted but didn’t say a word. 

“Thank you for what you said earlier about what happened in the bathroom. But you should know that I’ve had a lot of time to think about things since you’ve been gone. It takes me a while to process emotional stuff.”

“Because you’ve had too much for too long,” he said. 

“That may be true. I have to take responsibility for my part in how I treated you after we kissed the first time. Not under Willow’s spell. It was under Sweet’s, but it happened. That’s when I started using you to feel something.”

“You already explained this to me, pet. When you were ending things with me after the whole demon egg debacle.” He didn’t want to explain the eggs, not anymore. It wasn’t worth it because it wasn’t about the bloody eggs but about what she realized with it. Even if what she perceived was inaccurate, she saw how she was treating him and how it was impacting her to be with such an evil, soulless creature. He fought the urge to break eye contact. 

“That was about my own self-loathing. My own depression and trauma. I was using you and not taking the steps I needed to take care of myself. Spike, you deserved. . . deserve better than that.” She bit her lip, and he could tell she was trying not to cry. “I was still doing it in Sunnydale even if I didn’t see it at the time. I was keeping you around because I needed you.” She paused, and he thought she was probably talking about after he came back from Africa with his worn-out old soul. “But what I didn’t realize at the time, not until Angel came to visit, was that you were in my heart.” Spike started to speak, to ask what she meant, but she held up a finger. “I was in love with you.” 

“Was being the word of the day.” His chest hurt so badly that he almost wished she would stake him already. 

“You didn’t let me finish,” she protested again. When he didn’t say a word, she continued with anger and hurt in her tone, “I thought you were gone.” Tears fell down her face then, and he heard little sobbing sounds as she tried to breathe.

Spike felt his own guilt rise up from beneath his desire to snark back at her. “Oh, pet.” He moved across the bed to her then. “Turn around.”

She rolled over and waited, holding her breath, and he gathered her up in his arms the way he’d been wanting to since he first saw her that evening. He buried his nose in her damp hair and drew his legs up under hers. Everything inside him relaxed, and he felt her snuggle back against him and heard her small sigh of what he thought was relief. 

After a few minutes, she shifted around and wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling her head in the crook of his neck. She whispered, “I’m so glad you’re back. I keep thinking you’re not real, so holding you is my best proof.” 

He reached up to turn off the light, jostling her a little.

“No,” she said, “keep it on. I might need to see you, too.”

Settling back down, he held her close. He needed the touch, too, but for a different reason and simultaneously for the same one. “Alright.” 

Comfortably entwined with Buffy, Spike followed the slowing rhythm of her breathing and heartbeat and slipped into sleep.


	2. Chapter Two, Satisfying Appetites

Spike woke with a small start, and the first sound he heard was Buffy’s stomach growling. Everything was warm, and he realized that they were still curled up together. A soft moan slipped past her lips as she stirred, and he trailed gentle fingers over the curve of her spine.

“Hungry, pet?” he whispered, hoping she wouldn’t notice how much his body was reacting to hers. 

Buffy freed one hand and raked it through her hair, blinking up at him. “Mmm. . . I think I am.” She frowned. “So hungry.” Closing her eyes again, she melted against him. “But I don’t want to move. She slipped a hand over his abdomen and bumped into him. “Oh!” she said softly and then scrambled to sit up.

Hurt flashed over him, but he bit his tongue to keep from a repeat of times gone by. At least, she hadn’t run off. On the other hand, she didn’t exactly have anywhere to go or access to money. Here he was: convenient again. But that wasn’t exactly it, was it? Though he managed not to react, he sat up, too, tenting his knees under the covers to hide the evidence.

Buffy put her hand on his knee. “Hey.”

“Hey, what?” He wanted to call her Slayer, but he stayed his tongue.

“I’m not disappearing on you.” She bit her lip. “I’m kind of scared you might disappear on me though.” 

Spike reached over and wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger before tucking it gently behind her ear. “I’m not.”

“Not what?” she pressed.

He swallowed. This meant everything if he said it, and he felt like a crazy person for considering it. Still, he was nothing if not a bloody fool for love. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her smile lit her whole face. “Good.” She bounced off the bed. “I’m starving.”

He laughed at that, and her grin widened when she glanced back at him.

“What’s in the minibar?” She swung open the modern-looking refrigerator door. “Wow, lots of drinks. Not so much with the food.”

“That’s why it’s called a minibar, I suppose.”

There was an intake of breath, and she grabbed something to show him. “A Snickers bar! Snickers satisfies!”

Spike smirked. “How much is that satisfying bar?”

Buffy peeped back at sign in the open fridge. “Erm. Oh my god. Eight dollars.” She gave the bar a disbelieving look, addressing the chocolate as if it were sentient, “I don’t think so.” She gently tucked the bar back into its place.

“What about all the grub we bought last night?” His body was calming down finally as he focused on her flitting toward the bag.

Buffy rummaged through the plastic bag on the desk. “None of it sounds appetizing. And the ice is all melty.” Her eyes lit up, and she picked up a leather-looking notebook. “A menu! Room service!” She batted her eyes at him. “Yes!” She almost immediately sagged. “But poor Harvey.”

He was nothing if not amused by her rapid shifts in emotion. “If it really matters that much to you, we can find a way to pay the bloke back.”

“Okay!” She plunked down on the bed next to him, letting her hip graze his thigh.

Spike turned on his side and peered at the pages with embossed script describing their food offerings. “Let me guess. Something with bacon.”

“Duh!” Buffy’s finger skimmed over the menu. “And lemon buttermilk waffles with raspberries and whipped cream. And coffee. Caffeine is needed. Look, they’ll bring a whole pot.”

“Mmm. What time is it?” Spike wondered if they were serving breakfast because the menu said they served breakfast until 11 AM.

Buffy squinted at the alarm clock. “10:52 AM. I need to order ASAP.” She picked up the cordless receiver and typed in the room service number. Spike watched her as she placed the order. She was beautiful with her blonde hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. A shower and sleep made her skin glow so much that he longed to have her back in his arms again. Her green eyes widened, and she covered the mouthpiece with a hand, breathing, “Ohhhh,” as if she read his mind again. Then, she said into the phone. “That’s perfect.”

After she hung up, Spike stroked her knee and asked, “What was the ‘oh’ for?”

Indignation flashed in her eyes. “You don’t have anything to eat.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll pick at your order.”

“Were you even listening? I ordered two.”

“Fine. I’ll pick at my order.”

She crossed her arms. “That has no redeeming nutritional value for a vampire.”

“In case you forgot, love, I like to partake in human food, too.” He wanted her to relax and lose the lines of worry on her face.

“I thought that was just if it was spicy.”

“Well, you were wrong.” He mostly liked spicy stuff, but he wasn’t going to admit to it.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “We’ll have to get you some blood. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the bruises, mister.”

She was talking about the bruises from his fight with Angel. Bloody hell. He really didn’t want to bring up Angel. Spike was a tiny bit afraid she’d run out the door if he did. Well, maybe more than a tiny bit. “They’re just from your everyday slay.” He took a deep breath and dropped his eyes from hers, pretending to be very fascinated with the edge of the sheet. “You know, there are a lot of really bad guys to slay here in L.A. Maybe more than on the hellmouth.”

“Liar,” she whispered but with much less rancor than she used to have in her voice when she made such accusations. With a thoughtful expression on her face, she reached over then and ran a finger over a bruise on his forearm. “You know, I’m not going to push, but I want you to know that,” she gazed into his eyes then, “I’m on your team. We’ve been through too much not to be on the same team.”

His heart clenched with hope, but his sodding mouth snarked anyway, probably leftover from her earlier retreat. “A bloody team, eh? Might as well say I belong in the. . . what’s it called? _Friend zone._ ”

She winced a little, drawing away, which is the opposite of what he wanted her to do. “I consider you a friend. A best friend. I mean, well, I did. I thought you of all people would come find me as soon as, if not before, you were around again. I mean, if you were around again.” She huffed. “You know what I mean.” A tear slid down her cheek, but she hastily brushed it away before Spike could acknowledge it.

Buffy was saying all the things he’d longed to hear from her for so long. Why was he being a git and not accepting them without reservation? Lots of reasons – Angel reasons, Spike’s own longstanding experience that he wasn’t good enough. “We agreed we’d sort it out. What it meant – the thing between us. If we won.”

Her fingers fretted with one another. “We won, but we didn’t. I didn’t. And for more than just the consequences of the spell. For me, it was about you. I loved you. Don’t you get that yet?” She hurried toward the bathroom. “I have to use the restroom.” The door slammed behind her.

Spike stewed while she was gone, mentally beating himself up as he fussed with the bed and made it up.

A few minutes later as Spike heard Buffy washing her hands, there was a knock on the door, and she burst out of the bathroom, giving him a glimpse of more tears. She paused in front of the closed door and wiped her face before flinging open the door. “That was fast,” she said brightly, sniffing a little.

A man wheeled in a small but nicely decorated cart, complete with a tablecloth, china covered with silver domes, silverware wrapped in deep red cloth napkins, a shiny pot of coffee, cups and saucers, and a red rose in a vase. A bowl piled with brightly-colored raspberries and a dish of homemade whipped cream sat between the dishes.

The man, who wore a suit and white gloves, focused his puppy dog eyes on Buffy, which made Spike want to growl at him. “You ordered our most popular breakfast item. Our chef churns them out all morning. I took the liberty of adding extra fruit.”

“Thank you,” Buffy said with a beaming smile. “Please add 20 percent to the bill for your tip.”

The tall ponce gave her a sodding charming little bow and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. “Thank you, ma’am.” He stood awkwardly there, and it took everything in Spike not to throw the idiot out on his ear.

“That’ll be all, mate,” Spike said, breaking the boy’s trance.

The young man came alive. “Oh. Yes, sir.” Then, he strode out of the room, shutting the door with a low click.

Buffy busied herself with the cart and refused to look at Spike.

Spike slid off the bed and hovered at her elbow as she opened both rolled-up sets of silverware. When she moved on to the coffee pot, he said, “Pet. Buffy.” When she didn’t say anything, he felt a little stab of indignation that helped him keep going. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come looking for you right away. I didn’t think you’d be so bothered by me not being in your life.”

She poured creamer into a coffee mug. “How could you even say that? After what we went through in Sunnydale, especially the last year?”

“You kissed Angel,” Spike blurted without much thought. He hadn’t really confronted her about it before, and he’d let her wipe it away all for the purpose of sleeping next to her because the needed comfort before an apocalypse outweighed the need to hash things out.

“And that dismisses everything that came before?”

“If there was going to be an us after Sunnydale, maybe. Did you actually think both of us were going to make it out of Sunnydale alive?”

“No,” she said softly, pausing in her work. “Part of me didn’t think that. But that doesn’t mean. . . I think that every apocalypse. I think: this is the time I’ll die or someone I love will die. Again.”

Spike focused on the first part, ignoring the latter. “Well, there you go. So the thing between us? It wasn’t real.”

Buffy whirled on him, all her muscles rigid. “You slept with Harmony! Right away. You tell me what was real and what wasn’t.”

“That’s. . . different. Harmony is – ”

“Your rebound? ‘Cause that implies something else altogether!”

“What? That I was the rebound for you? That, that. . .” And just in the space of a couple of miscommunications, Spike’s brain was spun up, and he really had no idea what they were arguing about now.

Buffy, however, charged full steam ahead. “Rebound for what? Coming back from heaven? ‘Cause that’s really not fair.”

“I’m not talking about that. I would never throw that in – ”

“What are you talking about then!? That Buffy is so broken that she still isn’t over Angel and has to do ultimate levels of bad to live with herself?”

Buffy talking in the third person about herself and not making much sense gave Spike pause, and he shook his head. “Buffy. Wait a minute.”

“What?” She looked helpless and rattled like a rollercoaster of emotions was being paused.

He softened, intentionally trying to relax and not react. “I don’t rightly know what we’re talking about. And I think we’re missing each other.” There was a double meaning there, too, but there was no time to ponder it. “And we’re pinging off of each other.”

Buffy hesitated but said, “Missing each other how? You sure didn’t miss me – ” She clamped her mouth shut as she seemed to digest the rest of what he was saying. “We are.”

“I don’t think we should go back and untangle it.”

Buffy’s eyes were miserable at the thought. Her hands went to her elbows, and she squeezed herself. “I think it’d just be more confusing.” She worried with her lower lip. “The Angel thing. It wasn’t really a hello. That was kind of bullshit.”

Spike sank into a nearby chair. “I know.”

“I think I wanted things to be simpler.” She shook her head. “No. Not simpler.” She sat in the chair next to him, her arms emulating his on the armrests. “I was younger when I was with Angel. Things were. . . less complicated. Or I thought they were. I think the kiss symbolized a wish for things to be simpler again.”

“Things are never that simple.”

“I know.” She made eye contact with him then. “I agree. A-and I don’t want them to be simple. Things weren’t simple with you. Angel. . . he and I fell in love before all the badness between us. With you, all the badness came first.”

“Beg to differ,” Spike said when she was quiet for a few seconds. “There were pockets of badness, but we also had pockets of good, too.”

“You see? Complicated.” She rested her chin on her arm. “But I still believe in you.”

“And I believe in you, too, pet. Have for a long time now.”

“I don’t want a fairytale. Not anymore. I want something real.” She sighed as if she was resigned. “Tell me about Harmony and not coming to find me.”

Spike had no idea how much she knew because he had no idea how she’d found out about him in the first place. “I couldn’t come your way at first. I was incorporeal, and every time I tried to leave the law firm, I’d get zapped right back to Angel’s side.”

Buffy didn’t take the Angel bait he’d thrown out there. “Like when you were a ghost?”

“Yeah. I haven’t tried to leave the city now that I’m back to myself.”

Without a word, Buffy stood and climbed onto his lap, sliding her arms around him as if to reassure herself and him that he was, in fact, solid. “That must have been awful.”

Spike held her close again. “How did you find out I wasn’t a ghostie anymore?” 

“Someone named Fred called me. She said you made her promise not to tell me, but she considered the altered state an excuse to go back on her word. And she told me about the tracker and gave me a way to track you on my phone. Don’t be mad at her.”

Spike wondered when Fred had had time to make a call like that. “I slept with Harmony as soon as I was solid again. I think I’d pretty much convinced myself that you didn’t care.”

Buffy lifted her head from where it was back to being near his neck. “Convinced yourself or let others convince you?”

Spike was quiet as he considered her question. “A bit of both.”

“I know you and Angel have a rivalry that extends beyond what I know. I’d be blind not to see it. I just don’t know how else to prove to you that I love you and want to be with you.” She stroked his cheek. “But first, the Harmony thing I can honestly overlook. Can you work through the Angel thing? I know it’s a lot, but can you maybe?” When Spike wavered, she added, “I’m hungry.”

“So, the thing with Harmony?” Spike held her gaze, really wanting to know the truth of where they stood.

“Falls in line with my thing with kissing Angel, and I don’t want to be with him and not just because he and I can’t go anywhere.”

“What’re you saying?”

“I’m not saying. I’m showing.” Buffy reached for the cart, which was at an angle behind her. Then, she straddled Spike, her knees going around his hips and hitting the back of the chair.

Spike sat up abruptly, unsure what was happening, and then, he smelled Buffy again. Not just the aroma of the hotel soap nor the raspberry covered in whipped cream between her thumb and forefinger nor her signature scent, that mix of Slayer and woman that made her distinctly Buffy. He smelled how much she _wanted_ him, not just the hints he caught in their last year in Sunnydale together. She wanted _him_.

Buffy popped the bright scarlet raspberry in her mouth, and the hint of juice slipping over her tongue made him hard against her, and when she licked her thumb to rid it of the whipped cream, he almost growled and ground into her, anything to feel her again.

_But still._

“Buffy, love. Are you sure?” Spike wasn’t sure what he was asking her.

She lifted her eyebrows at him and slid her forefinger past his lips so that he could taste all three bits of sweetness. “I told you. No talking. All showing.” Removing her finger, she brought her lips to his, stopping just short of kissing him. “I missed you,” she whispered, “and I’d really rather be here than anywhere else. If you’ll have me.”

Spike took this as permission and crossed the invisible line between them, bringing his lips tenderly to hers. They moved together slowly at first, something they never did together in all the times they kissed before. He let her take the lead with the speed. With little fanfare, she deepened the kiss, her arms going around his check, and her hips pushing against his as he shifted back down under her. He groaned softly into her mouth as she began moving against him, clothing keeping only a thin barrier between them. His fingers slipped under the edge of the cotton shirt, almost burning with how warm her skin was against his. He almost stopped to ask again, but she preempted him by sitting back momentarily to sweep the shirt over her head. Her bare breasts bobbed before him, but all he could focus on was her eyes, always searching now to make sure she was okay. He saw the desire swirling in the green depths. She cupped her small breasts briefly in invitation, and he gently traced the roundness of them, ending with a tug of her nipple so that it hardened beneath his touch.

“Hello there,” Spike spoke to her breast. “Still as beautiful as ever, I see.”

She giggled and then began tugging at his shirt. “Your turn.”

As he complied, she kissed him before and after the cloth went over his head. Her palms found his chest, and she nuzzled his neck as she ran her nails down his flesh, not quite drawing blood but enough to make him squirm.

“You’re all sparkly,” she teased. “And hard.” 

“Whose fault is that?” he growled, kissing her mouth while she was mid-laugh. He smiled against her, and he marked the gesture in his mind as one of happiness shared. That was something he hadn’t experienced before with her. He deepened the kiss again, turning things more serious as her nipples brushed his naked skin, sending a cascade of tingles rippling over his torso.

Her hand found his hard length beneath her. “That’s new,” she whispered, stroking him.

He almost blushed because before his soul, he bragged about going commando, and he often had if Buffy was going to be around to demand sex. But in truth, going commando with jeans chaffed, and when he’d burned up in the hellmouth, he’d been wearing briefs – the same bloody briefs he’d worn while lying next to her on the basement cot. “I’m full of surprises,” he countered to cover the uncertainty that crept up with that memory.

She caught the hint of him being distracted and moved her hand to run a finger around the band at his waist. “I don’t mind.” She climbed off his lap, letting her hand linger on his knee as she reached for the food again.

He snagged the edge of her panties, which he could tell were wet for him, and he tugged her back.

She grinned as she held the whipped cream in her hand. “I’ll take mine off if you’ll take off yours.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Whipped cream, eh? That’s new.” They hadn’t exactly had food around before. “Won’t it make us all sticky?”

“I told you. I’m hungry.” She eyed his briefs. “Off, please.”

“You’re sure.” Spike had to be reassured again. It wasn’t exactly a question this time at least. 

“Are you?” Buffy’s brow furrowed in momentary worry.

“As long as it means something.”

“It means everything.” Her eyes are bright with the truth of her words.

Spike took that permission and pulled her close into another deep kiss, letting his own hunger take control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of double meanings here on purpose. :o)


	3. Chapter Three, Clarifying the Important Bits

“That was amazing,” Buffy said with a happy sigh as she collapsed on the bed next to Spike. She smiled over at him on the shared pillow. “You were amazing. I think it was better than before.”

Spike grinned over at her, smoothing her damp hair off her forehead. “Needed that, eh, pet?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Her brows drew briefly together. “With you. I needed that with you.” Spike thought she might start crying again.

He rolled onto his side, propping his head up with his hand. “None of that now. I don’t – ” Spike realized it was his turn to reassure her. He kissed her forehead as if that could smooth her anxiety away. “This was very different. . . at least for me. We’re not going there again.”

She lifted her head up and sniffed. “The room begs to differ.” 

They’d made a mess of the room. One recliner was turned on its side; the other was shoved against the wall so that there was a dent in the drywall. The food cart upended and plates were scattered around the living space, mostly eaten. The curtain on the windows was partially torn down. A lone stream of sunlight was luckily giving only the wall a suntan. The television was tilted back but largely undamaged except for a small crack on the screen. Harvey was going to have a very big bill, but he probably wouldn’t be banned from this hotel for the rest of his life. This was less destructive than Spike and Buffy had ever been. In fact, he’d never felt more content. 

On his back again, he reached over and traced a fingertip around the soft skin around her belly button. “Still much different than before.” 

Buffy put her hand on top of his, stopping his lazy motion and picking up his hand. As their fingers played together, she asked with vulnerability in her voice. “What does this mean?”

Spike blinked, his eyebrows going together slightly. Hadn’t he said not too long ago that he wanted it to mean something? He tried to think back to what they’d said about meaning. She’d said having sex this time meant everything to her. So, that wasn’t the problem. He chewed his cheek, and the truth hit him. She was asking what it meant to him. All this time, he assumed she knew. “Do you remember what I told you. . .” No, sod that. She was being direct; he could be, too. “I’m still terrified.” 

“Oh.” Why did she sound so disappointed with one syllable?

“But not for the same reason as before.” His thumb ran gently along her still pinky. 

She was holding her breath until her question came. “What reason is that?”

“Before?” Spike inhaled deeply and took the plunge. “I was terrified of being hurt. Of whether our night together meant anything to you when it meant so much to me that you were actually there with me. And if it did mean something to you, what was that meaning exactly? Did I have a right to have it mean anything after what I told you about not wanting anything from you?” 

Buffy’s hand came to life in his again, squeezing his in reassurance. “I don’t think I could have answered any of that then.”

“I know. And not all of them were questions for you to answer.” 

She brought his hand up and kissed it. “And now? What are you terrified about now?”

Spike stared at the ceiling. Somehow, there was a bit of whipped cream up there. He gave himself a mental shake. “I’m terrified that now that I’m back, I don’t know my place in the world. Before, it was always about someone else. Cecily, Dru, you. Being who others wanted me to be. And now? I think dying and being brought back again put a bug in my brain. I have to suss out what my life is for. For me. And I’m terrified about what that means now that you’re back in my life.” 

“God, Spike, am I that awful?” She turned her head toward him with a sheen of sadness in her eyes. 

“No, no, pet. I don’t know if you’ll still have me if I’m not just finding a purpose through you.” Somehow, he felt more naked than he already was. 

Her mouth fell open a little, and then, she hugged his arm close as she seemed to gather her thoughts. “Listen to me. I want you to have a purpose outside of me. I need you to have one. It won’t be sustainable if you don’t have something of your own.” 

“I’m not your soldier,” he said without any edge of defensiveness in his voice. 

“I’m glad. So glad.” She hesitated. “Is that all? Fear wise?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “For now. That’s the main thing.” She’d already addressed his other fears earlier. “Your turn.”

“I think my fears are different now, too.”

“How so?” He reached out for her, and she met him halfway, settling her head on his chest and an arm around his waist. 

“I’m afraid that in the end, I won’t be enough for you. That with all the difficulties I have getting close to people, I’ll push you away. Or that maybe I have already and that’s why you didn’t let me know you were back. I’m afraid that in the end, you’ll see just like everyone else that I’m not worth sticking around for. I know that last part is my own because of what happened with. . . everyone before. So, that’s not yours to always try to fix. But – ” She was talking quickly, but she stopped short. “You were the one who always stayed. And then, you didn’t. I mean, it wasn’t your fault. You were just saving the world and stuff.” Spike felt tears on his skin, and she began trembling. When he started stroking her back, she finally whispered, “I’m most afraid that you don’t love me anymore.”

Oh, fuck. He sat up abruptly then, causing her to topple sideways. “What?!”

“It’s okay if you – ”

“Did I stop loving you?” He hadn’t said he loved her, had he? 

She pushed herself up, not looking at him. “Maybe?” 

He caressed her cheek until she made eye contact with him. “I have never stopped loving you, Buffy. I’m sure if I died five more times, I’d never stop loving you.” Tears streamed down her face, and Spike felt his own eyes filling. He leaned over to kiss her tenderly. “I love you, pet. No matter how many insecurities you have running around in that noggin of yours, know this. I will always love you.” God, it felt good to make the declaration with confidence, to know that he could say it and not be met with disgust or rejection. 

“Oh.” This time, her “oh” was laced with surprise and acceptance. She hugged him with the same fierceness that she used to punch him in the nose. “I love you so much.”

He grunted and held her tight. “And I don’t plan on dying again anytime soon.”

“Good.” She wiped her face with one hand. “You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I’m hungry again. And we need to get you some sustenance.” 

“Well, it is dinner time.” 

“How do you know?”

Spike tilted his head toward the window. “Sun’s going down.”

Buffy followed his gaze. “Perfect.” 

Spike and Buffy dressed in record time, he pocketed the key, and she took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. Together, they left the sanctuary of the hotel room, making sure to keep the do-not-disturb sign on the door. No need for anyone to discover the mess too soon. They ran into other couples in the elevator, one who smiled at them and the other who gave their appearance side-eye. This was a posh hotel, and they weren’t exactly dressed for the space. Spike couldn’t help but leer at them, and Buffy elbowed him so that he grunted and grinned at her. 

When they reached the lobby, Buffy dragged him to the concierge desk where she boldly asked, “Can you recommend some good fast food and a butcher’s shop?”

Not even missing a beat, the older gentleman, Paul, wrote down names of a few places, including more than one butcher’s, and drew detailed maps to each location. Buffy watched him attentively, and Spike watched her, still not sure what was happening was real. 

When Buffy and the concierge were done, she thanked him and turned to Spike, lifting her lips for a kiss, which he gladly deposited. Her lips were warm and soft on his, and when she drew back, she gave a hint of a nip on his lower lip. Maybe it was real. 

Outside, the streets were busy with people getting out and about for the evening, and Buffy squinted at the papers, choosing one. “Butcher’s first in case they close soon.”

Spike’s stomach was empty, and though he was used to going without for stretches, he found himself quite hungry. “Alright.”

The butcher’s they found first was clean and bustling, and the large man behind the counter didn’t blink an eye when Spike ordered blood alone. Though the blood was cool, Spike didn’t mind because he was with Buffy, and he gripped the paper bag with its plastic container, waiting to drink until his lady had food.

Buffy wanted pizza, which was a few blocks away. As they swept past a group of people on dates and holding hands, Buffy moved her arm to the crook of Spike’s arm so that their bodies brushed together through the small crowd. 

At the street corner, she paused to push the crosswalk button and pivoted to face him, her face serious. “Will you come with me?”

“What do you mean, pet? I’m with you, going with you.” 

The light changed, and the people behind them urged them into the street. Buffy reluctantly followed the flow, and when they reached the other side and the people thinned out, she said, “I mean, I have to go back to my very real duties to the girls we called, and that means, I have to travel. All over the world. I-I know that would be harder for a. . . your sun allergy. But I would be happy to accommodate.”

“If my. . .” Spike glanced around to see who might be listening as they walked along, “sun allergy gets you to slow down a bit, lets you rest, I’ll gladly travel with you for a time.”

“And for the rest of the time?” 

Buffy was keeping things even-keeled, but Spike knew this was important, that there was emotion behind it for both of them. What they decided to do next was important if they were to make things work. 

“I might need some space to sort myself out.” When he felt Buffy drawing away from him, he almost let her go for the very same reason he kept his distance the last year in Sunnydale. Then, he forced himself to remember the shift that was happening, and he slipped his hand down her forearm and re-clasped her hand in his. “Not that much space.” After she relaxed against him, he continued, “I can do the bits I need to do without leaving you.” 

“If you do need space, I can give it,” she assured him. “As long as you come back to me.”

“Pet, that’s something you can count on.” Now that they were reconnecting, he couldn’t imagine not hunting her down no matter what was holding him back. 

“Same goes for you.” 

She lifted her face to meet his gaze, and he was reminded of how she looked at him when she cut him down from the wall of the First’s cave. He’d wanted to kiss her then, but it hadn’t been the right time, so he paused in their search for food to kiss her now. 

As they kept going, Spike added, “Odds are we’ll have separate missions here and there. I assume you and your mates are spread a bit thin.” 

“Yeah. It’s been lonely and hard, but we’re trying to communicate a lot. Everyone has a cell phone. Except me right now because I let the battery die.” 

“How’s Dawn?” The question surprised even Spike. He hadn’t realized how much he worried about the Nibblet despite her justifiable anger toward him. 

“Most of the time she’s with me. Right now, she’s camped out at Dad’s place here to try to catch up on some school work that she’s been putting off because we’ve been traveling. Yes, he’s back here with his new wife. Dawn figured that would be a good place to go because she’d much rather do school work than interact with Dad and our too-young-for-my-him stepmother.” 

Spike snorted. “At least she knows what she needs to focus.”

“She misses you, you know.”

More hope than he expected filled his heart. “Yeah?”

“She hasn’t said it exactly, but I know her. When your name comes up, she lights up like a Christmas tree and looks super sad at the same time.”

“My name comes up?” Spike was equally surprised by this tidbit.

Buffy gave him a “duh” glance. “Of course, it does. All of us talk about you and what you did in Sunnydale. We’ve had to tell the story more than a few times to newbie Slayers. And there’s a lot of regrets.” 

“Regrets?” 

Buffy shivered as a breeze blew through and around a particularly tall building they passed. “About how you were treated. Even Giles feels guilty.” 

“Bet that’ll change now that I’m back in the picture.”

Buffy set her jaw. “It won’t.”

“How do you know, pet?”

“Because I won’t let it.” 

“You can’t always be my defender.”

“Well, I will be until you talk to everyone. We’ve all had a chance to air our grievances and make amends with each other about stuff that happened at the end. It’ll be your turn, too.” Spike boggled at this idea, and when he couldn’t think of words to say, Buffy added, “Trust me when I say that we’ve all had a wakeup call about the importance of staying connected. Again.”

Spike swallowed. “I do have some amends to make with the Lil Bit.” He wavered before adding, “There’s more you’re not saying.” 

Buffy touched his forearm with her free hand. “Yes. But not now.” She paused. “It’s not about us. I promise. I’d tell you.”

Spike marveled at continued openness. “Okay then.”

Buffy suddenly bounced onto the balls of her feet and pointed at a neon sign up ahead, just past a liquor store. “Pizza!” she shouted with exuberance, surging forward and dragging him along.

Minutes later, they were ensconced in a booth in the back of the restaurant, the pizza was ordered, and Buffy even ordered a beer for each of them. Spike drummed his fingers lightly on the red-and-white checkered tablecloth to the beat of some distant music. Buffy took his hand in both of hers. 

“Don’t be nervous,” she said.

He lifted his scarred eyebrow at her. “How do you know I’m nervous?” 

She traced his knuckles with her forefinger. “Because this is our first sort of real date, and you’re acting like the last time we were on a sort of date.”

“When was that?” 

“When you took me on the stakeout to find the nest of vampire squatters.”

Spike rolled his eyes but was secretly pleased she considered that a sort of date. “That doesn’t bloody count.”

“I was mean to you.” 

He waved his free hand dismissively at her. “Pfff. I hardly remember it.”

“I remember. You held the door open for me. Same as you did tonight. I was mean to you about that. I think I called you. . . something about prison.”

His heart ached. “A serial killer in prison. To be fair, I kind of was.”

“That was before I believed in you, but my reaction was a little over the top.” Her eyes told him how open she was to him.

“It actually wasn’t. You should have been wary. This is present me telling past you that it was right of you to balk a bit.” Spike meant it. He took a swig out of the frosted mug. 

He could feel her studying his expression as he swallowed and averted his eyes. “Hmm. That wasn’t the point I was trying to make at all.” She took a deep breath. “The point is I want this to be a real date if you’re okay with that, too.” When he nodded at her, she said, “I don’t want you to be anxious like on our sort of date from before. I want you to know that I’m a sure thing. You have me. I love you.” 

Spike didn’t realize how much he needed to hear those words, and he tried not to let his jaw drop open. “Come here, pet.” He guided her out of her seat to join him on his side of the table. “I’m newly corporeal, and I’d like to touch the woman I love.” 

She snuggled up to him in the booth and reached over to snag her beer. She clinked her glass to his. “Your view is better for people watching.” 

Together, they sat in rare silence, watching the other restaurant guests and workers and trying to spy the entrance of their pizza – pepperoni with a side of anchovies in honor of Dawn. When the pizza came out and rather quickly, all watching ceased, and they divvied up pieces and dug into the food. Spike slung red pepper all over his portion and dunked it discretely into his pig’s blood while Buffy pushed the anchovies far away with a nose crinkle before taking a large bite out of her first slice of pizza. She fed him bits of pepperoni, and he kissed her on the tip of her nose and dabbed tomato sauce off the corner of her mouth. She moved on to her second slice and then a third while Spike polished off the blood and popped an anchovy into his mouth. Buffy made a face at him. Still, as they ate, neither of them said a word, and Spike was more comfortable than he’d felt in a very long time. 

Then, without warning, there was a loud bang coming from the entrance to the restaurant. Glass shattered, and other guests shrieked. Buffy and Spike scrambled out of the booth, both warriors on high alert, their peace spoiled. Young women came in first followed by a handful of cops and a familiar group of people. . . people Spike had come to know quite well over his time as a ghost and one vampire whom Spike knew very well but still sometimes wished he didn’t. 

“Angel!” Buffy cried out as the cops dispersed to attend to the rest of the restaurant patrons and workers. Spike was pleased to hear that she sounded annoyed. 

Angel nodded at her. “Buffy.” Then, he turned to Spike. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Spike’s stomach sank. “None of your damned business. How’d you find us anyway? Buffy destroyed the tracker.”

Angel didn’t even blink. “I run a detective agency, Spike.”

“Used to.” 

Buffy sat up taller and put her hand on Spike’s thigh. “Hold on, honey. I got this.” Spike’s heart soared. She hadn’t called him that since they were magically-induced to get married. 

Spike caught Fred grinning at him from behind one of the young birds and mouthing, “Honey?” 

A smirk slid into place on his lips, and he gave her the barest of nods.

True to her word, Buffy took control. “Spike and I are together.”

“As in together, together?” Angel sounded incredulous, and he almost immediately looked like a kitten who’d been kicked. “What was in that goblet, Spike?” 

What was Angel going on about? “You know very well it was Mountain Dew,” Spike insisted. 

“What’s Angel talking about?” Buffy asked, glancing Spike’s way.

“We got in a bit of a tussle over some supposed,” Spike waved his hands, “Cup of Endless Torment or some such rot. It wasn’t a bloody spell to make anyone fall in love with me if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

“Why would either of you even want to drink out of something that would cause endless torment?” Buffy gave them both skeptical looks. 

Angel was reasonably chagrined and put his hands on his hips. “Well, um, because there was a disturbance in the universe, and the only way to fix it was for a vampire with a soul to drink out of the cup.”

Spike shrugged. “I just wanted to beat Angel to it. And to save the world.”

Buffy bonked him in the arm, just hard enough to sting a little. “Now I know where the bruises came from.”

Rubbing his arm, Spike said, “Adding another one to it.”

She rubbed his arm in apology. “I don’t believe you just wanted to beat him to it.” She tilted her head and gazed left as if she were contemplating something very important. “No, actually, I do believe you.” 

Spike’s tongue snaked playfully over his incisor. 

“Okay,” Angel said out of irritation. “I don’t understand. What’s going on with the two of you.”

Gunn stepped up, for once not wearing a suit. He crossed his arms. “I’d say it’s pretty self-evident.”

One of the Slayers in the front, whose slender awkwardness reminded Spike of Amanda, spoke up, sounding a little more like Faith. “I agree with Gunn. Buffy’s totally hooking up with a vampire.” She held up a long white cord. “I have your charger.” She hurried forward to pass it along.

“Thank you,” Buffy said, taking the cord.

An older Slayer thoughtfully narrowed her eyes and addressed Spike. “You’re the vampire with a soul, right? The one from Sunnydale?”

Spike couldn’t help but relish the notoriety. “I am.”

“He saved the world,” the Amanda Slayer told her fellow Slayer. 

Angel huffed, but Spike swore there was a hint of pride in his expression. “I had a soul first.”

Fred stepped closer to Angel, lifting a hand to reassure him. “Now, don’t start going there in your head, Angel. Just because he has one, too, doesn’t make him any better than you.”

“Fred’s right,” Gunn added. “You can’t let that get to you.”

“I just don’t understand how Buffy fits in.” Angel put one hand to his forehead. He genuinely seemed like he might cry.

Spike softened. “If it makes you feel any better, mate, we just happened to run into each other last night.”

“I was looking for him when my phone died. It was pretty lucky that we even found each other.” Buffy picked up his hand in hers. “We talked through a lot of things. . . and one thing led to another.” 

While tempted to add something like, “We shagged a lot,” Spike instead said, “We decided we’re going to make a go of it.”

“After one night in a hotel?” Angel still appeared befuddled and probably for good reason. 

Buffy brightened. “Well, actually, technically, tonight’s the second night.”

“Maybe more nights than that,” Spike added, glancing down at her and reminding her of the nights in Sunnydale.

She offered him an understanding smile. “Yes.”

“And I’m going with Buffy,” Spike said, making eye contact with Angel and his decision very real.

“You can’t just go.” Spike wasn’t sure if Angel was talking to Buffy or Spike or both of them. 

“You can keep your cup of torment.” Though the words were firm, Spike’s tone was gentle. 

“And if you don’t mind, our pizza’s getting cold,” Buffy added with equal kindness. 

Spike lifted the credit card. “Unless you want to stay and have a pie on Harvey. You really need to check in on what that bloke’s been doing. Have the empath listen to him sing.”

“I don’t know about you guys,” the Amanda-Faith Slayer said, “but I’m starved.”

“I can eat,” Gunn agreed, pulling out a chair at an empty table. 

Fred glided into the seat next to him and picked up a couple of menus, reaching back to hand one to Angel, who sighed and sat down. 

Buffy beamed at Spike and kissed him on the mouth in front of everyone. “One meal and back to our hotel room for dessert. Just you and me.”

Spike nuzzled her ear. “Of course, pet. Of course.” 

_The end.  
2-14-20  
11:32 PM_


End file.
